Don't You Want Me?
by angel718
Summary: And Kurt likes this, and likes dancing with Blaine. Because it's comfortable, and fun, even if Blaine is a little drunk and goes off balance sometimes; and he's looking at Kurt with something in his gaze that wakes a spark of heat in Kurt's body.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this one actually requires a little explanation before you read, or it won't make sense. In our attempts to survive the holiday hiatus, someone on tumblr (I don't know who, wish I did...) came up with an amazing idea: what if Rachel and Blaine were siblings? This is my contribution to that idea; it's an alternate look at BIOTA with Anderberry siblings, if Kurt had never transferred to Dalton.**

"Are you going to Rachel's thing?" Finn asks anxiously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I feel like maybe I shouldn't go."

Kurt lifts an eyebrow. "You do whatever you want, but there's no way in hell I'm missing this. Everyone's going." A smirk. "This party is aptly named…every fiber of my being is screaming that it's going to be a total disaster, and yet I can't _not _be there."

"Haha, yeah," Finn mutters unconvincingly, gnawing his lower lip.

"Oh, just come," Kurt snaps, patience vanishing. "It's a party, it's not like it'll just be you and Rachel."

"I don't know," Finn sighs. "Are you gonna drink?"

"No, I already promised Mercedes I'd be her DD." He jingles his car keys loudly. "Seriously, Finn, if you're coming, let's go. I told her I'd be picking her up five minutes ago."

"I'll come," he relents, "but only because everybody else is probably going to drink and I don't want you to end up having to drive everybody home alone. I'll take my car."

"Oh." His brows draw together. "Okay. That's really cool, Finn, thanks."

"Eh, no problem," he shrugs, and Kurt throws a quick smile over his shoulder before he's shrugging into his jacket and bounding for the door.

He and Mercedes are greeted at the door by Rachel herself, clad in what is possibly the most horrid dress Kurt has ever seen. "Kurt! Mercedes!" she exclaims. "Welcome. Thank you so much for coming."

"Thank _you_," Mercedes drawls, lips twitching, and exchanges a wide-eyed look with Kurt. He muffles a snort, badly, and Rachel is completely oblivious.

"Come with me," she says grandly, leading them down the stairs. "Erm, Kurt, would you happen to know if—"

"Finn is coming," he interrupts easily, brushing past her into the room. "So this is the famous Berry basement."

"This is where we host our famous Oscar parties, yes," she agrees, beaming, and reaches out to jostle Quinn's shoulder as the blonde girl slumps past. "Hey, girlfriend! Having fun?"

Quinn makes a pained attempt at a smile, glancing to the far corner of the room, where Santana is wrapped tightly around Sam. "Yeah," she mutters, clearly far from enthusiastic. "Awesome…party."

Rachel's determined grin flickers. "Right. Well, um…"

She's interrupted—thank Jesus—by a series of loud thuds, and the arrival of a boy in a well-pressed uniform. "Rach, are you still…what the hell are you _wearing_?"

"Blaine!" she squeaks, throwing a slightly terrified glance to the wine coolers piled on the table, and moving ineffectually in front of them. "I thought you had plans tonight!"

"They changed." He shrugs, looking around. "I didn't know you were having everybody over tonight."

"Hi, Blaine," Santana purrs, having somehow disentangled herself from Sam. "I didn't know you'd be home tonight…"

"Uh, yeah," he replies, with a slightly nervous laugh.

Everyone else begins clustering around him (Kurt stares pointedly at his feet and tries very hard not to think about the fact that Blaine seems to have gotten _even more attractive _since the last time he was home, damn it all to hell), and that appears to be all the catalyst Rachel needs. "Blaine Anderson-Berry, I am having a party!" she shrieks. "And you are _ruining it!"_

"Rach, he's making it better," Puck says, a little patronizingly. "At least your brother's kinda fun. We weren't even doing anything."

A dull flush creeps across her cheeks and she clenches her teeth. "Well…well _fine. _Then maybe we should start! Let's party, guys!"

"Oh, God, what have I walked in on?" Blaine asks, laughing quietly as his sister pops the lid off a wine cooler and proceeds to start chugging it as fast as humanly possible.

"I have a terrible feeling about the way this is going to end," Kurt replies dryly, without thinking, and Blaine turns to him with the kind of brilliant smile that breaks his brain just a little bit.

"I could put a stop to it, but somehow I feel like it'll be a lot of fun to watch," he agrees, smirking. "You mind if I sit with you?"

"N-not at all," Kurt stammers, and then immediately curses himself for sounding like an idiot. Blaine doesn't seem to care, though, because he just keeps beaming and plunks down, shedding the blazer with one graceful movement.

_Oh, God._

Someone turns the music up, to the point that the whole house is actually kind of shaking; with a whoop, Puck makes a mad dash for the bar and shouts, for everyone that will listen, that he will be mixing the drinks, thanks very much. "Do you want anything?" Blaine shouts, eyes glimmering with amusement, and Kurt shakes his head.

"No thanks, designated driver."

He nods, vaguely impressed. "Be right back!"

He does come back eventually, which Kurt is mildly surprised by—especially since Brittany had dragged him in for a couple of dances first. Kurt himself dances with Mercedes and Tina to keep himself from thinking about it too much, until they happen to notice that Blaine's on his way back and shove him back at the couch, giggling wildly.

"You havin' fun?" he calls, sipping from his second Jack and Coke. And Kurt nods, trying to look like he's looking at him without actually doing so, because it's gotten kind of hot in the basement, and Blaine's hair is coming free of the gel and curling in response, and at some point he's unbuttoned one or two of the buttons on his dress shirt and _oh God that is just so unfair. _"Really?" he presses, and Kurt repeats the movement. "Dance with me," he orders, and that's the first indicator that maybe he's a tiny bit tipsy, because he's been around Blaine dozens of times and _that's _new. But Blaine's already on his feet with his hands outstretched, swiveling his hips slightly to the beat of the music, and really, how is Kurt actually supposed to say no?

So he puts his hand in Blaine's and allows himself to be tugged to his feet. Blaine pulls him close immediately, comfortably, with his arms wrapped just high enough around Kurt's waist to keep it from being awkward. Except it still kind of is, because Kurt's never actually danced with a boy before, and suddenly he's wondering if maybe a drink might've been a good idea, to loosen him up a little. "This your first time?" Blaine asks, his lips close to Kurt's ear, and he shivers as he nods. "It's okay," Blaine replies, smirking slightly. "No judgment, it's just me."

And okay, weird, because that shouldn't really be comforting, but it kind of is. Kurt relaxes, slightly, and Blaine just keeps smiling his stupidly charming, encouraging smile. And the music plays on, and the girls are shrieking and laughing, and Santana is quite possibly sobbing all over Sam in the corner, but everything else has sort of faded away, as ridiculously cheesy as that sounds. Because Kurt _likes _this, _likes _dancing, and he _likes _dancing with Blaine. Because it's comfortable, and fun, even if Blaine is a little drunk and goes a little off balance sometimes; and he's looking at Kurt with heavy lidded eyes and something in the depths of his gaze that wakes a spark of heat in Kurt's own body. And Kurt finds himself pressing even closer without being self-conscious, without even making the conscious choice to do so. There's a heady, nameless emotion filling him, and it's just pleasant and kind of sexy, and for the first time in his life, Kurt's happy just letting things happen—and then, suddenly, the music screeches to a halt and Rachel's yelping, "Who wants to play Spin the Bottle?"

Blaine freezes for a moment, stares at Kurt, and then releases him with a rueful half-laugh. "She is so, so drunk."

Kurt's pretty sure that, besides Finn, he's the only one who's completely sober by this point, so he has no idea where it comes from, but suddenly he's tilting his head and asking, "You wanna play?"

"Spin the Bottle?" Blaine clarifies, arching an eyebrow. "With my sister and her friends?"

"We're your friends, too," Kurt corrects him boldly, suddenly grateful that someone had dimmed the lights so that Blaine can't see the blush rising on his cheeks. He holds Blaine's gaze for a long moment, and finally, he nods.

"What the hell."

It's fun because it's so ridiculous. Hilarious, in fact, because it's not that far of a stretch from the dating pairings that New Directions have managed to come up with. And everyone's drunk enough by this point that Santana doesn't even bitch when the bottle lands on Rachel, and they kiss with a little too much enthusiasm as Blaine laughs hysterically and repeats several times that _God _he wishes he had a camera right about now. "Your turn, your turn!" Rachel chants, stabbing a finger toward him (possibly as payback for all the comments, but possibly just because she's not quite sure what's actually going on). He shrugs, laughs, and gives the bottle an almighty spin.

Kurt doesn't expect it to land on him, even though he's silently praying to every deity he doesn't even technically believe in that it will; even though he's clenching his fists so hard that his nails are going to leave marks in his palms and he's holding his breath and absolutely _willing _it.

It lands on him.

He barely hears the catcalls and cheers over the roaring in his ears. Blaine looks up at him with the hottest grin Kurt has ever _seen_, and then, suddenly, they're surging toward each other, lips meeting in a messy kiss.

It's probably not technically a real kiss, still, but it's a completely different world from kissing Karofsky. Blaine's lips are soft and yielding and gentle against his own, and his hand comes up almost tentatively to caress Kurt's face. Kurt leans into the kiss without even thinking about it, and Blaine's tongue swipes questioningly against his lip. He opens his mouth willingly, tangling his fingers in Blaine's hair, and Blaine pulls him closer. There's nothing quite like this, and _God_, _this_ is what kissing is supposed to be. He sighs into Blaine's mouth, and if the music weren't back on, he might have actually heard Blaine's answering moan. But it doesn't matter, because he can feel it instead, and his whole body fills with heat in response.

"Oh, hey, WHOA, OKAY," Finn bellows suddenly, and, startled, they jump apart. "I think that's enough," he continues, glowering, and Kurt knows that he should probably be embarrassed, but he just can't find it in him to care.

"Tina's turn!" Mike yells, already losing interest in the mini-drama unfolding before their eyes, and Finn drops it reluctantly. Kurt settles back into his spot, grinning to himself, and a few minutes later, Blaine switches seats with Puck and crawls next to him.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," he admits, in a throaty whisper that makes goosebumps erupt all over Kurt's skin.

"M-me, too," he confesses, his voice embarrassingly breathy, and a wolfish grin takes over Blaine's face.

"I think maybe you should spend the night."

**AN (2): There's a part two, and there will be a part three very soon! :D If you want to find me on tumblr (where this was originally posted), my url is jesski10.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Part two of three! :)**

"I—I have to drive people home," he stammers, blushing violently. He's not quite sure whether he wants Blaine to protest or not, which turns out fine, because he doesn't do it. Kurt doesn't go back, either. When the party finally starts winding down, he drives Quinn, Mercedes, and Mike home (Tina's spending the night, or he'd have been taking her as well), and then goes back to his own house. He thinks about it the whole time, drives slower than usual because he's trying to puzzle through the decision. He can picture what might happen if he actually does it, so clearly that it almost feels like a memory. There will be kissing. A lot of kissing—he's sure of that. How far it would go is a whole different question; Blaine Anderson-Berry seems to do strange things to Kurt's willpower. But then he remembers that Blaine's been drinking all night and his stomach twists. Because what if he _does _go, and things _do _happen, and then Blaine doesn't remember it in the morning?

He's back home before he even registers that he's made the decision.

"Dude," Finn says, shuffling barefoot into the kitchen when Kurt trudges in, "finally. You took forever."

"You didn't have to wait up."

A shrug. "I was a little worried."

Kurt grins, touched by the admission. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" And Kurt _knows _it's a bad idea to confide something like this to Finn, but his eyes are alight with interest, and somehow, in this moment, Kurt just feels kind of…_close _to him.

"Whether I should go back." He pulls open the fridge, digging around for the orange juice.

"Why would you want to go back?" Finn asks, clearly perplexed.

"…I don't know." He's suddenly grateful that his head is buried in the fridge, because he's bright red, and even Finn would notice that.

"Wait," Finn continues slowly, "is this about what happened with Blaine?"

"Maybe," Kurt hedges, perching on the counter and swigging from his glass to delay having to say much else. "Obviously, I'm not actually going to do it."

"Well, good," Finn opines fiercely. "Because you like him, and he shouldn't get to take advantage of you just coz he's drunk."

Kurt actually chokes, then splutters out, "Wh-what? What do you mean, I like him?"

"You do, right? Like, you always take even longer than usual to get dressed if you know he's gonna be there when we go to Rachel's. And you get all red and stuff whenever we talk about him."

"I do not!" But sure enough, his face is already burning; he buries it in his hands. "Dammit, Finn Hudson, since when are you observant?"

"Since now," Finn replies, with some pride. He looks at Kurt curiously. The Great Faggy Lamp Debacle of 2009 had put a serious strain on their relationship for a long time, and they'd _never _been the kind of friends (or stepbrothers, for that matter) who had heart-to-hearts or asked each other for advice. Or, okay, _Kurt _doesn't ask. He has helped Finn, though. Several times. And that's why Finn ventures, almost shyly, "Can I, like, say something?"

One perfect eyebrow inches up. "Sure, if you want, I guess."

He had expected a bit more of a fight, and had planned to use that time to figure out what to say. He blinks. "Uh…"

"Shoulda thought that one out, Finny."

"Okay, seriously, though," Finn blurts out. "I think you should talk to him about it."

"Ohhh, God," Kurt moans, burying his face in his hands again. "What am I supposed to even say?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Finn looks like he's really thinking about it. He blanches. "I—I don't know." He puts a tentative hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Are you, like…okay? Like, are you really upset over this?"

Kurt shrugs. "I'm just confused. I'll go to Rachel's later and help her clean up, and maybe Blaine will just say something, once he's sober."

"I hope." Finn's lips curve up slightly. "He seems pretty cool, and if you like him, then I want it to work out for you."

"You're a big softie, Finn Hudson," Kurt says, playfully lofty, and Finn laughs.

"Nah. You're my brother, dude. You're important to me. If he hurts you, though, it'll be a whole different thing."

"I should be recording this for posterity. Or blackmail opportunities." He laughs, hugs Finn tightly. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"Night, Kurt."

"Good night, Finn."

He goes to the Berry-Andersons' on Sunday. He'd intended to go on Saturday, but Rachel apparently decides that it's a good idea to spend the entire day watching chick flicks and drinking champagne, so he gives up and waits the extra day. "Blaine home?" he asks, would-be casual, after about an hour of stuffing red solo cups and crumbled bits of food into trash backs.

She blinks, eyes still bleary. "What?"

"Your brother," he repeats patiently. "Is he here?"

"Oh." She muffles a yawn. "No. He already went back to Dalton. Which is weird…he never goes back early like that."

His heart sinks, and, counting on her hangover to keep her from figuring out what he's really asking, he queries, "Did he say anything about your, um, party?"

"Not really." She shrugs, flopping over onto the couch. "He was weirdly quiet all of yesterday, though. Why?"

"No reason." He stuffs one more cup into the now-overflowing bag. "Rach, honey, are you all set? I should probably go."

She pouts hugely. "I guess you can go, if you want."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," he says, half-truthfully. "I just have a lot to do." It's mostly true, but he ends up going home and staring blankly at his computer for a while, trying to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do now.

Blaine texts him a few days later, which is strange in and of itself. Not that they're not friends, but they've never really been the 'communicate when they're not both with Rachel' type. Weirder still, he doesn't seem to have much of a purpose for doing so, and doesn't really say much of anything. Mainly, he just seems to want to ask how Kurt is, make awkward small talk for a few minutes, and then disappear again. Kurt starts trying to bring up what had happened, but each time he so much as references a party of any kind, Blaine's gone.

After about a week of this, daily, it becomes way too much for Kurt to handle. So when Rachel announces, one morning, that Blaine had forgotten his wallet at home the night before, he has to actually work to swallow back his offer to take it for her. "Are you gonna drive it over?" he asks instead, twisting the knob on his locker without really paying attention to what he's doing.

"I was actually wondering," she says casually, "if you'd mind taking it for me."

His heart skips. "What? Why?"

"Well, because. I can't risk losing a solo, Kurt. Colleges look at _everything_, you know, and what if Mr. Schuster agrees to let us do another West Side Story song?"

He should probably be offended by her insinuation, but he can't really be bothered to care. "Sure," he replies, trying to sound nonchalant. "I don't mind skipping glee. There's a great mall right by Dalton, anyway. Maybe I'll go shopping, too." It's a total fabrication, but Rachel doesn't seem to care.

"Thanks, Kurt," she sing-songs, and drops the wallet into his hand.

He's only been to Dalton once, on what had turned out to be a really embarrassing attempt to spy. He gets there, though, somehow, and onto the grounds just in time to see a couple blazer-clad boys disappear into a thicket of trees toward the back of the campus. Furrowing his brow (how very cloak and dagger), he swings his messenger bag onto his shoulder and jogs after them. One of them had actually looked kind of familiar, and he's hoping maybe they're Warblers.

He stays just far enough behind them to avoid detection (though it's probably not necessary) and sneaks through the door of the warehouse just in time to see their performance. Their _extremely _unfair, _ridiculously sexy _performance. It's no wonder, really, that two of the girls who had made up their audience approach Blaine afterward with their numbers. "Sweet," he says smilingly, tucking the scraps into the pocket of his blazer, "but not your team. Sorry."

They exchange an annoyed look and walk off without saying goodbye. Kurt tries not to laugh, swallows his nerves, and steps out of the shadows. "Big heartbreaker, huh?"

Blaine jumps and looks around, presumably for the rest of the Warblers; but everyone else has long since left. "Kurt!"

"Hi," he says, wandering over and perching on the table. "Good performance."

"Thanks." He swallows. "Not to be—what are you doing here?"

He wants to say something snarky, but the nerves are back full force. So he just reaches into his messenger bag. "Rachel said you forgot your wallet."

His brows draw together. "I what?"

"You forgot your wallet." He waves it, and Blaine takes it, being careful not to let his hand brush Kurt's at all.

"Thanks. I…that's weird, I remember putting it…well, never mind." He laughs awkwardly, still avoiding Kurt's eyes. "Geez, I feel kind of bad. You didn't have to drive all this way just to give me my wallet back."

_Oh God. _"I didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't just drive here to give back your wallet." Closing his eyes, he draws a deep breath. "Blaine, I think maybe we should talk."

Blaine blanches. "Is this about what happened at that party?"

"I—yeah."

His eyes widen. "Oh, God, Kurt, I'm so sorry. I…I was a little drunk, and I just…I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have…I'm just really sorry."

"I could have pushed you away," Kurt points out. "I didn't."

"Why?"

He squeezes his eyes shut tight. "Why do you think, Blaine?"

"Kurt…" He reaches out, and maybe Kurt's hallucinating, but it looks like he's shaking a little. "If you feel like I pressured you, please tell me. I…I really don't want this to ruin our friendship, you know? I really care about you."

"Last weekend, you told me you'd wanted to kiss me for a long time," Kurt blurts out, his voice trembling. "Was that true?"

"…"

"Blaine?"

His eyes flutter closed, and he nods.

And Kurt doesn't consciously choose to say it, really, but suddenly he's murmuring, "Well, maybe we should try it while you're sober." Blaine's eyes widen, and Kurt wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Unless you don't want to, that is."

Blaine lets out a quiet growl and kisses him. His hand comes up to caress Kurt's cheek, so gently that it's almost surreal, and he flicks his tongue lightly against Kurt's lower lip. Kurt presses closer, and Blaine wraps his free arm around him to keep him from falling off the table. There's no battle for control for control between them—it's more about curiosity, and expression of an attraction that they had long ignored. Blaine pulls back first and rests his forehead against Kurt's, breathing a little erratically. "Wh-what do you think?"

"That we probably should have done that a long time ago," he manages.

"Thank God," Blaine murmurs, pressing a chaste, closed-mouth kiss to Kurt's lips. "Because I completely agree."

Kurt smiles, nuzzling him lightly. "Your sister's going to freak out."

"Forget my sister," Blaine breathes, tangling his hand in Kurt's hair. "She'll get over it."

Neither of them hears the door open, but they don't miss the high-pitched shriek.

"_What the hell is going on in here?_"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Happy New Year! Have the final installment as my gift. :) Also, this is possibly the cheesiest thing I've ever written.**

**Ever. **

"Rachel!" Blaine exclaims, one arm still tight around Kurt's waist.

"Wait, Rach? What the hell are you doing here?" Kurt yowls, glaring at her.

She folds her arms, her lower lip edging out in the mother of all pouts. "Mr. Schuster cancelled glee rehearsal today, and I just thought, 'I should go see if Blaine wants to go get some dinner.' Because I _know _this boarding school food is far from acceptable." She lets out a wail. "I was just trying to be nice!"

"Mmhmm. And you knew I'd be here, specifically, how?"

"Thad," she answers promptly, and Blaine rolls his eyes.

"Of course."

"But _really_, Blaine. I'm very disappointed in you, you know. I was hoping I would come in here to find you and Kurt discussing your feelings like actual mature adults. And instead I find you with your tongue practically down his throat!"

Blaine blinks. Of all the things Rachel could have said, that's possibly the absolute _last _thing Blaine expected. "Wait. What?"

She sighs loudly. "I _engendered _this meeting specifically so you two could stop tiptoeing around each other constantly. Blaine, I seriously cannot handle you moping around the house listening to 'Teenage Dream' on repeat and beating yourself up about doing the wrong thing anymore. It's called overkill."

Blaine blushes violently and hangs his head. "Please stop talking."

Kurt, meanwhile, is looking from one to the other, wide-eyed. "Wait, can someone please explain to me what's happening right now?"

"Blaine's been mooning after you for weeks now," Rachel announces bluntly.

"Rachel!" he protests, horrified.

"Wait, but if you thought we'd be talking, why would you want to come interrupt?" Kurt demands, arching one eyebrow. Rachel flushes, biting her lip.

"…maybe I was just…hoping to see the reconciliation."

"Rach, get out," Blaine orders, and she lets out an offended gasp.

"Excuse _you_, I set this whole thing up!"

"Then you should leave, so we can actually have some privacy while we have the conversation you were so keen for us to have, oh darling sister of mine," he drawls. She huffs and storms out; once she's gone, Kurt nudges him lightly.

"Hey, is what she said true?"

He swallows hard. "In all fairness, I did sort of admit that earlier."

Kind of true, but still. There's nothing quite like hearing it in actual words. "I know, but…I guess it's still a little hard for me to believe that this is real."

He reaches for Kurt's hand, twines their fingers together. "What do you mean?"

"God, I don't know…I've liked you for months, Blaine. And the last guy I had a crush on was my terminally straight stepbrother, and my first kiss was forced on me by the deeply closeted jock who's been making my life hell for years. I guess I just can't imagine that you could really…like me back."

Blaine just looks at him, eyes so warm that it almost hurts to look back. Kurt works to maintain eye contact, managing a tiny, awkward smile. "But anyway."

"No, wait," he says finally. "Kurt, can I ask you something?"

A jerky nod.

"How do you see yourself?"

"Wh-what?"

"When you wake up and look in the mirror," Blaine clarifies softly, "what do you see?"

"Oh." He lets out a shaky laugh. "I shouldn't even be surprised that you'd ask something like this." Blaine doesn't reply; he just keeps holding Kurt's hand, tracing tiny shapes into the skin with his fingertips. And somehow, Kurt's talking, and he doesn't even know where it's coming from.

"I see some kid in designer clothes who doesn't remember what it feels like to have real dreams anymore. Someone who loves his friends and his family so much that it actually hurts sometimes, and he's grateful for them, he really is. But somewhere down the line, he lost _himself_, sometime when he realized that high school just meant having to stash a change of clothes in your locker and get used to bandaging yourself up when you get home. Sometime when he figured out that his first kiss wasn't going to be anything like the movies, and maybe he'd never have that." He ducks his head, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "I just can't believe this is actually happening."

Blaine caresses his cheek, guiding his chin up with one gentle finger. "Can I tell you what I see?"

"Y-yeah."

"I see someone who's faced days filled with hatred and still finds it in him to love, and to really, truly care about people in ways that some people will never be able to do. Someone bright, and vibrant, and absolutely beautiful in every way, but he—he just doesn't see it. Someone who's dealt with so many things that most people don't even dare to _think _about, and he hasn't let them get the best of him. And he deserves someone who can show him how amazing he is, who will—will be there for him, and hold him when he cries, and laugh with him, and catch him when he falls, and—Jesus, I should probably stop talking now." He lets out half a self-deprecating laugh, rubbing his free hand across the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Kurt asks, and normally he'd be embarrassed when his voice breaks, but this time he can't seem to find the ability to care. "That was…amazing."

Blaine reaches for him again, and Kurt goes more than willingly into his arms. "I can be that for you," he whispers, his lips close to Kurt's ear. "If you're sure you want me to be."

"I do," Kurt breathes, his voice trembling slightly. "I really, really do."

Blaine laughs wetly, burying his face into the crook of Kurt's shoulder. "I am crazy about you," he murmurs, his voice muffled.

Kurt just pulls him closer, and even though he can't seem to find words, Blaine understands.

**I regret nothing.**


End file.
